A Show Like That
by PandaFire McMango
Summary: Collins and Maureen discuss their idea for a new Broadway show...care to guess which one? And someone who this matters to enters at the end...not a great summary, but oh well. hads a long author's note, so beware! oneshot with CollinsMaureen friendship.


**Well, here's another one for you! Ok, this one has a little something-something behind it. See, I read on a website that someone thought you couldn't be a RENThead if you hadn't seen the show. I think that is completely not true. I have never seen the show (but I will in November) yet I KNOW I'm a RENThead. First of all, because everyone I know groans out loud the instant I start to talk about it, because I'm so obsessive. Second, because any song, and i mean ANY song (even "We're Okay") can make me burst into to tears. But beyond that...the show has changed my life. It's opened my heart much bigger than almost anything else, and it's given me something to love and udnerstand. RET has been a gift to so many; I am no exception. I challenge anyone to tell me I'm not a RENThead: i won't care, because i know it's not true.** **I love RENT and everything it stands for: so sue me.  
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**Ok, I'm done. Anyway, I swear I will update my other stories (Mimi at Midnight, Maureen and Her Problem, and AAngel, Mimi's Boyfriend in particular) ASAP. I'm a little harried after getting back from Greece and London, where on ym last night I saw Idina Menzel in Wicked (!!!!!!!) and i talked to her and got her autograph! sorry, sorry, just still delirous with joy...but anyway. love yall, and enjoy this!  
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"Ooh! Wait, Collins, let's go down here, just for a minute—"

"Maureen, we're late as it is," moaned Collins as he allowed himself to be dragged by his coat sleeve down a side street. Maureen rolled her eyes and tugged harder.

"The others can wait. I want to see this place; I haven't gone here in ages…" They moved down the little street and suddenly emerged onto the sidewalk of a much larger road, albeit a nearly deserted one. Only an occasional bum lying on the pavement or leaning against a derelict building populated the street. That was all right: Maureen didn't want the people. She wanted what was at the end of the block.

"God damn it, Maureen, can't you walk home from work with me _once_ without some big detour or something? Is it too much to ask for when I'm tired and—"

"Stop whining, you wimp, we're here!" Maureen skidded to a stop, still clutching Collins's sleeve as she turned to gaze at the building in front of them. He groaned and started to say something, but it died in his throat as he saw what she was looking at.

It was a theatre, old-fashioned and dilapidated, obviously abandoned by those with means to restore it. Two double doors with cracked glass panes were chained together, and the giant front windows were covered by sheets of plywood. Wooden, gold-painted curlicues rolled up and down the sides of the theatre, decorative yet depressing, paint flaking off and dents growing more and more apparent. It rose high and once-mighty into the air, set apart from the other drab buildings on the street both by it's sadness and it's majestic dignity. It seemed out of place; Collins might have expected to see it in a mystery film or something, but never here, tucked away on a deserted, forgotten street.

"Wow…" he breathed as he stared up at the theatre. Beside him, Maureen nodded.

"I always loved coming here, at least before it got this bad. Now this place just has this weird negative vibe, you know?" Collins glanced at her, then back at the theatre with a small raise of his eyebrows.

"I mean, loot at it! This place must really have been something, before it died and got left here like an old candy bar wrapper. You know, I think it was on the Broadway circuit once, ages ago." Maureen sounded reverent, as though theatres on the Broadway circuit were to be treated as temples. Collins laughed slightly and crossed his arms.

"It's certainly impressive…wonder why—"

"I'm starting to hate theatre shows in general," stated Maureen matter-of-factly. Collins shut up and listened, hoping she would explain herself. She did.

"It's so razzle-dazzle now, so all about fantasy and shiny stuff. Don't get me wrong, you _know_ how much I love razzle-dazzle and shiny stuff. But now…" she waved vaguely at the dilapidated theatre. "Now all you have are shows about imaginary shit. Things that are completely made up. Why can't anything be at least a little about the true world these days?" Collins shook his head and sighed. One minute she was hyper-Maureen, skipping around and loving the fantasy-shiny things. The next she was serious-Maureen, who was concerned about the world and ethics and all that crap.

"I know what you mean," agreed Collins, without having even the slightest idea what she was talking about. He hadn't seen real theatre in years; she obviously had. "There aren't many shows now that…um…seem real?" She nodded and turned to him, eyes wide.

"Exactly! I mean, why can't some hack just get off his ass and write something about the real world, like…" she paused to think, then bounced in the air as inspiration hit her.

"Like what it's like to live here, in New York!" Collins raised his eyebrows. A show about living in New York? Sounded a little clichéd, if you asked him.

"But not living here in olden times, or whatever," she continued. "Living here _now_, with homeless people and up-town jerks and gay characters and rent and AIDS…" she trailed off, turning back to stare in awe at the theater. Collins watched her, surprised. This was not a normal topic; at least, not for Maureen. But he decided to play along, if it would get them home faster.

"Sounds like a good idea…maybe you should try writing it." Maureen grinned at him, rising and falling on the balls of her feet.

"Yeah! Lesse…" She pretended to bend over a desk and clutch a pen. "The ensemble will be made mostly of homeless people." She scribbled something with the imaginary pen. "Half the characters will be gay and lesbian." She scribbled something else. Collins was cracking up. "They'll live in the East Village, and have some evil little landlord guy who keeps hounding them about rent." She laughed a little too, trying to ignore Collins's bursts of laughter.

"I think Benny would appreciate you putting him into the show," Collins managed to choke out. Maureen nodded, but then a look of inspiration came onto her face.

"No wait! I'll put us all in the show! You know, you and me and Mark and Roger and Mimi and Angel and Joanne! It'll be—" She struck a dashing pose. "The story of our lives!" Collins shook his head and laughed harder, his eyes tearing up. Maureen frowned at him, but her eyes smiled.

"What? Why couldn't I do that—write a show about our lives? We've got the conflict, we've got the plot going on, we've got the hungry, animal attraction…" Maureen put her hands on his chest and waggled her eyebrows at him, growling in a sexy way. Collins actually cried now, he was laughing so hard. But even when he managed to calm down, he threatened to crack up again as he thought of her idea.

"Maureen, c'mon, who'd want to watch a show about us? What do we have in the way of characters, for on thing? Hmm…" He made a show of thinking hard. "A legal-aid lawyer. A musician with serious attitude issues. An S&M dancer. An obsessive little filmmaker. A drag queen. A turned-evil yuppie friend."

"A crazy ass anarchist teacher who likes to blow things up," Maureen broke in. Collins crossed his arms and smirked at her.

"And an equally crazy-ass diva with a cow problem." Maureen laughed and twirled on the spot, ending a dramatic little bow. Collins clapped and laughed, caught up in the whole thing, He had long since forgotten that they were late.

"Collins, tell me that's not a list of characters every playwright would want to steal! And anyway, all they really need is me. I'm a show by myself." Collins snorted, and she pinched him.

"Ow! Yeah, well, any show about you be the kind that gets all the existing scripts burned after the first reading, just because it was too much for the human population."

"Shut up, you jerk!" But she was laughing too. When they both calmed down, though, they turned back to look at the theatre again. It looked so lonely, so small, so…done with life.

"Half the characters would have AIDS, you know. I mean, if it was a show about us," said Collins softly. Maureen touched his hand.

"Yeah…but that's real. AIDS is real, and anything that's afraid to admit that AIDS is a problem is a problem itself. My show would tell the truth about it all: having AIDS, being homeless and frozen, being broke all the time, dealing with prejudice and all that crap…"

"Use that for a sales pitch and it'll be sold out every night," said Collins. Maureen rolled her eyes. "And anyway, Maureen, we don't really have a plot like you said. You could write about Christmas Eve, I guess…but how dull would that be? Everyone meets each other, the riot happens, hug, smooch, that's the end?"

"I could use New Year's, too," she reminded him. He shrugged.

"Yeah, but where do you go from there? Now we're just in this rut, so to speak…there aren't any big dramas or anything."

"I'll make up an ending," she declared. He crossed his arms and turned to face her.

"Oh really…what might that be?"

"Hmmm…" She thought hard, her brow furrowed. Then she jumped and her eyes lit up. "I know! We drop-kick Benny into Oklahoma, find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and head to Santa Fe!"

"Oh yeah!" Collins laughed and slapped her high five. She giggled and grabbed his arm. "Hey…you think anyone might actually go for this? Maybe not a show about us, but a show that tells the truth about New York? Hey, we could give it a little motto or something, like a moral for all those hard-asses. Hmmm…what's that you guys are always saying? In Life Support?"

"No day but today, I think you mean."

"Yeah! No day but today! Collins, wouldn't you want to produce a show like that? C'mon, you've gotta admit it's pretty tempting…"

"To the Sondheim Cave!" Collins cried, pretending to rush forward like a crusader. Maureen rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Hey, think they'd let us be in it if we gave them the idea?"

"Oh, definitely. You can be the Queen of the East Side, and me…" Collins struck a dramatic pose. "I will be your knight, riding forward on a steed of white! Or maybe a taxi…possibly the subway, whatever's easiest." Maureen laughed again.

"I want my own sing, though!"

"Selfish, selfish..." Maureen giggled, but then a faraway looked came onto her face.

"Wouldn't it be amazing…a show like that?" Collins put his arm around her and nodded.

"Probably." They both stared up at the old theatre for a moment. Then:

"Oh well, care to dream."

"I hate to say it, but that's never gonna happen, Mo."

"I know…" Collins squeezed her shoulder and sighed.

"Hey, we have to go, Mimi and Angel are going to slaughter us."

"Oh, jeez…c'mon." And together they walked down the street. Little did they know, however, that someone other than the torpid bums had been watching and listening.

A young man stepped from a back alley, his hands shaking with excitement. Homeless people…AIDS…drag queens…the truth about it all…why had he never seen it before? Why had he never seen it, right there in front of his eyes? He lived in New York, for god's sake.

Still, none of that mattered now. What mattered was what he'd just heard. What those two people had just said was burning its way into his mind, already filling in the blanks of the story and stringing together character relationships. Those names…Angel, Roger, Collins, Maureen…what were the others? Oh well, he'd be able to remember them. Right now, though, he had to get home. Notes were sounding in his brain, chords and segues, songs and refrains. He had to get them, get them all.

The young man turned and hurried down the street, running a hand through his curly hair as he tried to calm himself. What he could do with this idea, what he could make it into…this might be what he was looking for. This might be the magic he needed.

As he stepped off the curb and crossed the street, he felt a little bad for that man and that woman. They had come up with it, after all; it was their idea, not his. But then he decided that what mattered was getting the show done, making it into something. They hadn't sounded serious about writing it; but the woman had seemed truly earnest in her wish to see a show like that.

Well, he would give her a show. He would give her a show that no one who saw it would ever forget. He would make this into the thing he had dreamed of all his life: his glory, his masterpiece.

As the young man turned down the street towards his building, something the two had said itched at him, wriggling in his brain like a worm. It sounded good, felt good, felt true. Already he could hear the music behind it.

_No day but today…_

** there ya go! Love it, hate it, use it as air freshener, id on't care, just review por favor! oh, and I know Jonathon Larson (bless his soul) did not come up with the original concept of RENT. but it works better this way, don't it?**

**luvvies!**_  
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